


Taste of Home

by umbraja



Series: Reflections [1]
Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Banter, Bittersweet, Comfort, Fluff, Food, Gen, Homesick, Keith is surprisingly well adjusted, Keith's Past, Shiro’s a good friend, Team as Family, Texan Keith (Voltron), Waffles, the Panhandle is a scary place
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-14
Updated: 2017-12-14
Packaged: 2019-02-14 19:39:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,402
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13014771
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/umbraja/pseuds/umbraja
Summary: “I don’t know, Lance. I think Pidge is right. Waffles are superior to pancakes,” Hunk’s gentle voice drifted through the door.“Traitor! How could you say that? And after having my abuela's pancakes,” Lance gasped dramatically.Hunk started to reply but Pidge cut him off, “Because pancakes are just flat disks of cooked batter no matter who does the cooking while Waffles are a masterpiece of culinary engineering with built in pockets for holding syrup and a crisp shell for the perfect crunch. It’s just a superior design, Lance.”The Paladins are all homesick and banter about missed food puts Keith in a talking mood, even if it’s just to Shiro. Somewhat of a character study.Or - I might have grown up on a farm in the Panhandle (that’s north Texas, btw) and every now ‘n’ then I get a mite nostalgic.





	Taste of Home

**Author's Note:**

> Happy first fic for me~
> 
> I've got over a dozen other tidbits and ideas rattling about but this was the one I finished first. I can't help but feel like it's a bit stiff and awkward but I'm just getting started so hopefully the next ones will be better.
> 
> I live on comments so please let me know what you think. Even if it's bad. I kinda need to know so I can make it better.

The lights in the castle were a gentle glow, an attempt to simulate evening, as Shiro walked with Allura to the dining room. They could hear the younger Paladins talking excitedly from the hall. The team had really bonded over the past year. Shiro couldn’t help a small smile as they approached the sounds of friendly banter.

“I don’t know, Lance. I think Pidge is right. Waffles are superior to pancakes,” Hunk’s gentle voice drifted through the door.

“Traitor! How could you say that? And after having my abuela's pancakes,” Lance gasped dramatically.

Hunk started to reply but Pidge cut him off, “Because pancakes are just flat disks of cooked batter no matter who does the cooking while Waffles are a masterpiece of culinary engineering with built in pockets for holding syrup and a crisp shell for the perfect crunch. It’s just a superior design, Lance.”

Another gasp drifted through the door but Hunk tried to find a middle ground and descalate the situation. “Your abuela’s are the best pancakes on Earth, Lance, but. . . well. . . she should try making waffles.” 

Allura exchanged a glance with Shiro, both giving soft smiles though she didn’t really know what a pancake or waffle was to argue. Shiro just shook his head, a sign he would explain later, then put his hand to the door’s sensor.

“Yeah, well. . . McGriddles,” Lance shot back with a huff as the dining room door slid open with a quiet hiss. Shiro arched a brow at the Blue Paladin sitting across the table from Pidge and Hunk with his arms crossed over his chest and a dramatic pout pulling at his lips. 

“Oh, now that’s not just a pancake,” Pidge shook her spoon at Lance. “It’s cheating if you add bacon.”

Lance just threw up a shrug then glanced to the door when he caught sight of the others entering. He put on a wry grin for Allura, waggling his brows suggestively. Before she could roll her eyes Hunk provided a distraction by slumping in his chair with a nearly whined sigh.

“I miss bacon,” the Yellow Paladin frowned at the food goo in front of him.

“I think we all miss bacon,” Shiro spoke gently as he walked around the table to take the seat left of Keith and stole the younger boy’s plate. It was half finished with the spoon sticking at an odd angle from the side, untouched for at least several minutes. Keith rarely finished his dinner and Shiro wasn’t one for waste. Keith just gave Shiro a bored look and shrugged then went back to pretending he wasn’t listening to the conversation around him. Shiro smiled softly with a brief glance to the boy on Keith’s other side, both of them sitting back in their chairs with arms crossed. So different. So much the same.

“I miss caffeine,” Pidge half grumbled with a frown at her own goo, poking it with her spoon to make it jiggle. 

“I miss my abuela’s boliche,” Lance muttered.

“I miss your abuela’s boliche,” Hunk gave a gentle smile.

“Chocolate,” Pidge put in with a huff. 

“Cake” Hunk nodded.

“Flan,” Lance threw in.

Allura leaned into Shiro’s space to whisper quietly, “What are they doing?” as the others continued to list words she had no idea the meanings of. 

“They’re comparing what foods they miss from home,” Shiro answered gently with a soft smile.

“Oh. So ‘Monster Energy’ is a type of Earth food,” she mused thoughtfully leaning back in her chair to watch the humans name dishes with such passion. She wondered what it all tasted like. There were so many different kinds. Humans must value food rather highly. They certainly seemed to have an odd obsession with it.

“Turkey drumsticks” Pidge challenged with a slap to the table, daring anyone to contradict her.

“Oh. From that fair in the town near the Garrison? Wow. I forgot about those. Yeah. Those were great.” Hunk closed his eyes, sinking in his chair a bit to reminisce on the flavor.

“The fried ones were good,” Shiro nodded in agreement, wearing his own little smile for memories of the fair.

“Heathens,” Lance scoffed, “Spicy or go home.”

“Funnel cake!” Hunk gasped before anyone could argue with Lance. He’d startled out of his reverie when thought of turkey legs connected to other fair food.

“Keep your stringy beignets,” Lance flopped his hand in a dismissive wave, “Fried plantains.” 

“Bananas are better” Pidge argued from across the table.

“They get all mushy,” Lance curled a lip at her.

“Two words,” Pidge countered, “Ice. Cream.” Her eyes went wider for each word.

“Oh. Yeah. . .” Hunk all but moaned, closing his eyes again. “With hot fudge and peanuts and a cherry on top,” he melted into the memory of sundae’s past.

“Right now I’d eat collard greens,” Lance huffed pushing at the goo in front of him, “At least that’s real food.”

The others frowned at their plates and passed into a brief silence that hung heavy over the table. They were all homesick. Allura glanced between their sullen faces and was about to suggest maybe a new topic of conversation when Keith mumbled quietly into his jacket.

“Corn off the stalk.” It was barely a whisper but Lance heard, sitting right next to him, and the simple phrase made him bark a laugh. 

“Man, how did we not know that you’re an alien?” Lance grinned as he ribbed the boy at his side. “Corn comes on a cob, dufus”

“I know what a corn cob is, city boy,” Keith nearly growled giving Lance a hot glare. “That’s not what I’m talking about. You can get corn on the cob in any grocery store. You can only get it off the stalk from a field.”

There was a somewhat tense pause as the others processed this information. Shiro’s lips tightened slightly in a knowing little smile but he said nothing and let Lance recover.

“Yeah?” the Blue Paladin scoffed, turning in his seat to face Keith. “Been in a lot of cornfields have you?”

“Half the US is a corn field,” Keith deadpanned. 

“Actually it’s only about 15% but. . .” Pidge trailed off at the glare she got from both of them for that.

“Ha” Lance tossed a hand toward Pidge then turned a challenging smile on Keith, leaning in. “And that didn’t even answer the question, now did it. . . Farmer Keith?”

“Shut up, Lance,” Keith gritted through his teeth then pulled away from the confrontation, stood up and walked out. Lance blinked. He’d not expected that. No one had. They all watched Keith’s back as he slipped out the door with his shoulders tensely hunched. Shiro frowned then shook his head when Hunk started to say something, probably to ask if Keith was ok.

“Leave him be. Keith just needs a little space sometimes.” 

There was an uncertain beat of silence before Allura attempted to defuse the tension by asking, “What exactly is this corn substance you were arguing over?”

“What is corn?” Lance arched an eyebrow at her then glanced to Hunk and Pidge. It was a strange question for them but then it was easy to forget that Allura really was an alien (though more accurately they were the aliens here) and there was still so much she didn’t know about Earth.

“Oh man. . .” Hunk started with a gentle laugh. “Corn is a big thing on Earth. It’s in all kinds of food.”

“Tortillas, chips, cereal, hallacas, polenta, pupusas,” Lance started naming food made with corn.

“Popcorn, grits, hush puppies, corn dogs,” Hunk threw in some of his own.

Allura listened patiently though the list of more words she didn’t understand wasn’t really helping. 

“It’s a kind of grass,” Pidge interrupted the boys. “The seed pods form a conical cluster of edible, usually sweet, kernels which can be eaten raw, cooked, or processed into a wide variety of foods.” She idly waved at the boys who had already provided a list but Lance grinned as if that was a suggestion to continue and did just that.

“Pasteles, tamales, hominy. . .”

Shiro shook his head with a warm smile then quietly stood up and left them to their corny discussion. He walked the halls till he found Keith staring out the big windows into space a bit forlornly. 

“You still miss the farm.” 

Keith flinched subtly and didn’t really answer. Shiro didn’t push, just leaned against the wall and looked over his shoulder toward space. Keith would talk when he was ready. If he needed to. After a long but comfortable silence Keith spoke up.

“I don’t think about it often,” he breathed softly, eyes on the stars but not really seeing them. “It’s been so long. I can’t even remember their faces.”

Shiro tilted his head to watch the boy beside him a moment then gave a knowing nod. “I thought they grew cotton,” he spoke gently, an invitation to say more without really prying.

“They did,” Keith nodded, dropping his eyes to his feet. “Uncle Varlon had a few rows of corn by the house,” he went on, not really sure why but Shiro had a way of getting things from him. He was comfortable. Safe. “Let me sneak a cob before dinner every now an’ then. Aunt Bessie was strict on meal times.” Keith paused to smile wistfully at the memory of the only good foster family he ever had then continued with a sigh, “Got a taste for it I guess. Snuck more than a few cobs from random fields while I was on the highway after they. . .” he trailed off into silence again, not quite awkward but not perfectly comfortable either. 

Shiro nodded gently and turned his eyes back to the stars. He knew what Keith couldn’t say. After they died. It had been before they met but Shiro had seen Keith’s records and the boy had talked about them, even if just a little. The others assumed Keith didn’t miss Earth like they did. He didn’t have anything there to miss. But Shiro knew he did. It was his home as much as theirs. At least some small corner of it. Keith was just better at hiding his pain. Shiro knew that didn’t mean Keith doesn’t hurt. Because he’d missed that farm even at the Garrison.

“I tried growing some in Arizona,” Keith broke the silence with a weak laugh, turning midnight eyes on Shiro with a sad little smile. Shiro blinked, surprised Keith had more to say.

“How’d that go?” the older Paladin asked gently.

“Nothing grows out there,” Keith shook his head, turning back to watch the stars, still not seeing them. “Just scrub brush and cactus,” he shrugged, crossing his arms over his chest and Shiro thought that would be the end of it. Usually it would be. Keith wasn’t a big talker. Maybe it was the bonding they’d done as a team, maybe it was the distance from everything familiar, or maybe it was just the stars and Shiro, but for some reason Keith kept talking.

“Not that different from the Panhandle,” the smaller boy huffed a dry laugh. “I don’t know how they did it, scratched a farm out of that clay. Sometimes it was like the land itself was tryin’ to warn people off but they always came back to it. The desert. The plains. Something about. . . the challenge of it, I guess.” 

“The challenge?” Shiro arched a brow slightly but his voice was still soft. Curious, not demanding. Keith glanced at Shiro with a little shrug then turned his eyes back to the void.

“Something about being able to stand on that flat land and watch the storms blow in. Rolling thunder, more felt than heard. Flash floods that could drown a cow. Sandstorms could take the paint off a car,” the boy smiled fondly at some memory. “Hail the size of my fist,” he pulled up a hand and shook a loose fist to demonstrate. “That’s not even to mention the tornadoes. And wildfires. If it doesn’t rain the grass on the plains gets so dry just about anything will set it off,” he frowned slightly at the thought of that and went quiet again. Shiro watched the boy with a curious surprise but didn’t dare ask.

“I miss the fire,” Keith murmured after a few moments staring at the stars. “Varlon had a smokehouse out back. Nothing quite like the smell of mesquite smoke on venison,” Keith closed his eyes and took a deep breath as if imagining it. “Gawd, I miss smoked anything,” he huffed a heavy sigh, shaking his head as he let the breath out. “And lemonade. An’ sweet tea. An’ blackberry cobbler with Blue Bell ice cream. . . I even miss the chores. It was mundane and repetitive but out there I was alive. Livin’ off the land. Beholden to no one but the folks I chose. That chose me.” Keith fell into silence then, crossing his arms over his chest as if to close something off he’d not meant to let open. It felt heavy after having said more in one go than Shiro could remember him ever saying at a time. He wasn’t sure what to tell Keith so he just gripped the younger boy’s shoulder. 

“We’ll make it back to Earth. You’ll get to see it again.”

Keith just gave Shiro a sad little smile then shook his head. “Farm’s not there anymore,” his voice was solemn but steady, resigned. “Bank took it when they died. Last I heard they built a strip mall on top of it.” 

“I-I’m sorry,” Shiro frowned. “I didn’t know.” 

“It was a relic,” Keith shrugged. “No one has small farms like that anymore. They held out long as they could but nothing lasts forever.” He shook his head with a slight frown, looking back to the stars. “No point dwellin’ on the past when all you can change is the future,” he said it like something he’d been told. 

Shiro just stared at the boy in front of him a moment then huffed a soft laugh. “I’m supposed to be the one cheering you up.” 

Keith tilted his head back to Shiro with a sad smile and shrug, “I’ve lost every home and family I’ve ever had. Leaving Earth is just one more home.” He turned to put a hand on Shiro’s shoulder, “This time the family came with me.”

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading!
> 
> Comments sustain me so please leave some.


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